The days following the gala passed in a hushed silence that felt curated.
Chris didn't trust it.
Quiet, in his short experience as a newly important person, was rarely accidental, especially not after the kind of attention the Maleks had shown. Plans were being prepared. The pieces were moving, just not towards him, or at least not yet. That, more than anything, made his instincts itch.
For now, though, the palace breathed softly around them.
Chris woke to the dim, early light filtering through the curtains and the steady warmth beside him. He turned his head and froze in something closer to reverence.
Dax was still asleep.
That alone felt like a minor miracle.
